She spared him a dark scowl. “We have to do something!”
Indeed. But what?
Horse hooves pounded. Theirs. Child’s. Closer. Closer. The coupé’s light shone on the monster’s face driving the thing. No doubt that villain was counting on them to swerve, lose command of the horses, and plummet—
Hold on.Swerve?
“Plan this well, Wife. Veer off at the last minute but stay close to the coupé. The instant we are parallel, I’ll jump.”
She glanced at him, a horrified twist to her lips. “Now who’s the mad one?”
“Haveyoua better idea?”
Cheeks pale, she faced forward. Hopefully she had enough stamina left in her to pull this off.
Wheels rumbled. Jackson’s heart thundered against his ribs as he once again poised to leap…but this time onto a carriage speeding pell-mell. One slip and he’d easily go under the wheels, crushed like a beetle.
They drew closer, so near, the whites of the driver’s eyes flashed in the darkness. Hold. Hold. And…
“Now!” Jackson growled.
Kit yanked the left rein. The horses swerved. The barouche juddered. But Kit held course, thank God! Child’s horses pounded past. A breath more and he’d be even with the carriage. He’d spring and—
Child’s driver swung his arm, a fireball hurtling towards Jackson like a thrown grenade. Jackson raised his hand to ward it off. Too late. Glass and metal cracked into his shoulder. He jerked against Kit as the lantern that’d hit him bounced to the ground and smashed beneath the wheels in a sickening grind.
She pulled on the reins, slowing the barouche enough to turn in a tight circle. “Are you all right?”
A growl rumbled low in his throat, words impossible, so much fury choked him.
They raced ahead, but by the time they cleared the bridge deck and peered down the possible avenues of choice, no coupé was in sight.
Kit pulled the heaving horses to a halt. “Which way?”
His gaze swept from one street to the next. “I don’t know.”
“We can’t have lost them!”
He’d never heard her so hysterical—and the sound chilled him to the marrow of his bones. After all this, they couldn’t lose Bella. Not now. Heart sinking clear to his boots, he once again studied the roads, three in all. Roughly a thirty percent chance, a wager so dismal he’d not take it at a horse race. He jumped to the cobbles, pacing to keep from exploding.
And then he spied it. A broken cobble. Fresh. Not much to go on, but it was all they had.
Tearing back to the carriage, he leapt to the seat and pointed. “There. That way.”
It didn’t take any further encouragement for Kit to get them rolling, though by now the horses were spent. Then again, Child’s had to be too…and thankfully, they must’ve been. When the road curved, Jackson once again sighted the coupé. This time, though, something banged about beneath it. A wheel chock, if he didn’t miss his mark, jerking like a crazed cannonball tethered to a chain. If that thing hit a wheel, a spoke would break and—
Crack!
The carriage listed. The driver bailed. The horses took off at the sound.
“Jackson,” Kit moaned, desperation thick in her tone.
And there wasn’t a blasted thing he could do about it but watch, horrified, as Child’s coupé flipped and skidded to a stop at the base of a streetlamp.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
More paperwork. Wouldn’t Jackson love that? Charles smirked as he shoved the pile across the counter to Breakhouse, the night-shift clerk. And the kicker of it all was that he’d have to fill out the same forms all over again tomorrow—no, make that later today. Yawning, he scrubbed a hand over his face. He honestly didn’t know what was worse, sitting wired up for a fight to begin or filling out the report afterwards. Ludicrous, though, that success or not, he must sign off on duplicates and triplicates for the equipment used, even if it was only a wagon and some horses.
Breakhouse tapped the papers on the counter, straightening them to an orderly stack. “That oughtta do it, Baggett. See ya in”—he swung his head over his shoulder to glance at the clock—“four hours. Well, I won’t, but Smitty will.”
